It wasn’t a monkey, it was a zoo

Thursday

Jun 29, 2017 at 5:12 PMJun 29, 2017 at 5:12 PM

As someone who once was within earshot of one of the Top 10 stupidest questions of the year asked by a sportswriter it is with a dose of regard I acknowledge the death of Anthony Young earlier this week.

It was reported in January that Young said he had an inoperable brain tumor. He died Tuesday in Houston at age 51.

Thankfully Young was hailed for his grace, composure and nobility, or it is somewhat doubtful he could have lasted through six major league seasons, half of them in the sometimes brutish market of New York City.

Because Young belongs to the cellar that houses baseball’s disreputable record holders. His distinction for consecutive losses by a pitcher fits nicely alongside most strikeouts by a batter, season or career, most wild pitches in one inning or starts missed because of inability to find the ballpark.

C’mon, some of you still must recall Pascual Perez.

Young was the losing pitcher 27 consecutive times during his career while toiling for woeful Mets teams that lost 193 games in two seasons. He became somewhat of a national celebrity from his futility.

Of course, Young also was the target of late-night humorists, but he endured rather well. Fortunately, he came along at a time that he never was subjected to the evil wing of social media and became a statue for Twitter pigeons.

We might not have thought we were more civilized a quarter century ago, but there is ample proof to that effect. Some of those in Young’s corner might even have realized that he was an athlete of notable talent or he wouldn’t have survived such a stretch of humiliation.

He once retired 23 straight San Diego Padres, but lost the game, his 26th consecutive, by surrendering an eighth-inning home run. He had 15 saves in 1992 when his record was 2-14.

The view couldn’t get much worse from there, could it? Young slumped to 1-16 the following season.

But as the streak extended Young began to receive good-luck charms from fans around the country.

‘‘I still have a box in my attic of stuff people sent me,’’ Young told The New York Times in 2011. ‘‘I got a letter from Bob Feller. I got lucky dollars, rabbits’ feet.’’

He also received advice from psychics.

‘‘I went out there with a four-leaf clover in my back pocket,’’ he said. ‘‘Believe me, you’ll try anything to break something like that.’’

Had Young suffered through a similar streak in these times it is doubtful he would have lasted long enough to reach 27 losses. Too many fans would have taken his misery personally. We only can speculate how disturbing the cyber barrage would have become.

Or maybe millions of followers would have come to Young’s defense. No, decidedly not.

So label the late Anthony Young with one of baseball’s most dubious honors, but also credit him for this comment after being asked about having his burden finally lifted off his back.

‘‘It wasn’t a monkey; it was a zoo,’’ Young said.

He lasted through six seasons at the ultimate level of his profession and did so with dignity.

Robin Roberts survived much longer while mostly pitching for second-division teams, and ultimately was rewarded with a bust in Cooperstown, New York.

One afternoon when he was here for a celebrity golf tournament he was asked this question: How can anyone who gave up the most home runs in history be in the Hall of Fame?